


Step By Step You Excite Me

by adalheidis



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Bottom Lee Hangyul, Dirty Talk, Foreplay, Forgive my sins, Goryeo Dynasty, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Making Out, Nipple Play, THAT MEANS HE HAS NO PEE PEE, Top Kim Wooseok, Verbal Humiliation, hangyul is a eunuch, i thought it'd be important to mention that, the violence really isn't that bad but everything else is, they never get to do the do but, world history and quarantine don't go well together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23325637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adalheidis/pseuds/adalheidis
Summary: Excuses after excuses are all that Wooseok can give when questioned upon why he hasn't rebelled against the king yet if he really detested the leader so much. And it will stay that way until Wooseok obtains a motive that galvanizes him into action.
Relationships: Kim Wooseok | Wooshin/Lee Hangyul
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Step By Step You Excite Me

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger warnings** : I wanted to match the era I was writing about from the setting to the characters' feelings as well as possible and that, unfortunately, meant that I would have to throw around some **sexist** and **racist** words. If that bothers you, please turn away or at least take that into consideration before reading. 
> 
> Besides that... some terms that I used:  
>  _King Uijong_ \- the 18th monarch of the Goryeo dynasty of Korea  
>  _hwangsong_ \- the meeting room  
>  _wondok_ \- the area of the palace where living quarters are usually located  
>  _hoegyong hall_ \- the throne room  
>  _Eunuch Jungham_ \- a eunuch that King Uijong appointed as a high official

Wooseok stands in uniform with all of the other civil service officers in front of King Uijong, organized in four parallel lines, two on each side of the king’s seat. Hands laced in front of their crotches and gats tipped downwards because their eyes were burning holes in the ground- even when the drunken king just rejected their fourteenth attempt at making an appeal, the civil service officers bowed their heads in blind respect. 

Often, Wooseok wondered how they could possibly bite their tongues. Was the abhorrence that filled them whenever they co-worked with eunuchs not passionate enough to lash out at the king? Now the king is foolishly suggesting that he offer higher positions in office freely to men who were born without their men parts, and they still do not dare to arrange a coup? The king was only one fat person, the civil service officers were forty.

The other civil service officers irritated Wooseok to no end. The truth was, he never had anything against eunuchs to begin with. The only reason why he agreed to band together with a crowd was because it increased the likelihood for the king to finally be overthrown. Yet never would he have imagined that officers who took the kingdom’s most difficult test to achieve their jobs were so dim-witted. 

Or could he? Yes, Wooseok answers his own inquiries. Order under a corrupt king was still favorable over internal chaos that could potentially leave openings in the kingdom leading to capture by the Mongols. 

Everybody has heard of the Mongols.

So as long as the king raises the Mongols as support for his decision, the civil service officers would not be granted their wish.

Wooseok clenches his fist and audibly grits his teeth as the king waves a dismissive hand and nearly topples out of his chair having drunk too much wine before noon. Once again, Wooseok exits the hwangsong after four wasted hours of conducting non-existent affairs.

That day is different, however. Unlike what Wooseok had previously believed, that day is different from the days the thirteen previous appeals the civil service officers have issued were held on. A massive stampede of masked and robed boys are what meets the civil service officers the second they step out of the hwangsong and into the open. They wail and scream as they are ushered to places Wooseok can only imagine.

There is a moment where all struggle seems to come to a stop and one robed boy refuses to move.

He’s beaten to the ground until his skull cracks and splatters red all over the polished granite. 

Then the movement proceeds.

A fellow civil service officer winces. Wooseok remains stoic. An officer has the nerve to look towards Wooseok for direction, but receives a scoff as a reply.

Pity, he does for the boys, but Wooseok is not going to go out of his way to tell a wimp what he should do. Long ago Wooseok had already learned to ignore the cries of the heartbroken. He is never going to see them again anyways.

What Wooseok does is turn a blind eye and calmly head to the wondok where his living quarters and weapons are.

Wooseok’s sword is a fine specimen, the battered wooden shell it is encased in not doing justice to how sharp the blade is. Sharp enough for him to immediately unsheathe the sword, press the tip up against a lurking strangers neck, and draw a thick stream of blood when his ear catches onto a distant but steady thumping from next to his wooden wardrobe.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my room?” Wooseok spits venomously.

The stranger stumbles backwards towards a wall that causing lurch forward and further into Wooseok’s blade. Blood clogging up his throat, he can’t bring himself to voice a response.

Wooseok squints his eyes at the boy’s face as he coughs and sputters. Even with the incessant motion constantly blurring the boy’s features, Wooseok can note clearly that the boy’s nose is curved in a way no other Korean nose is. His eyes too, look foreign, round, heavily lidded, and filled with a fascinating resolution. 

Wooseok pulls back his sword and tosses it to the ground beside him. Taking the boy’s chin into his hand, Wooseok watches as his eyes tear up in pain, but stare right back into Wooseok’s own eyes. The boy is completely composed and that is alluring to Wooseok.

“A tribute?” Wooseok guesses aloud as the boy nods his head the best that he can with his face confined and neck bleeding.

Wooseok sneers, “I have heard about your type before. Filthy Chinese. Even lower in class than the concubines you serve amongst.”

“My name is Lee Hangyul and I am Korean,” the boy’s husky voice comes out for the first time and it compels Wooseok gently presses his sleeve into the boy’s injured neck to temporarily stall the bleeding.

“You being Korean changes nothing about the fact that you are a eunuch.”

It is obvious that Wooseok’s words hurt Hangyul’s pride, but Hangyul’s gaze does not look down.

“I am a valuable asset to your country, having proven more loyal and trustworthy than you ever will be.” 

“Touche. My name is Kim Wooseok and I am an officer that can be on your side if I want to. So tell me, Hangyul from Korea… How did you get castrated? You should know very well that if I find out you performed self-castration, you will be sent to have the slowest torturous death. It was one of Confusius’s principles that self harm is insolent, which you should have read if you were a true Korean eunuch,” Wooseok uses the hand already on Hangyul’s neck to bring their bodies impossibly close to each other, to the point that they are breathing the same breath.

“It was a dog bite. And it was not me. My father did it.”

Wooseok chuckles darkly, “What honor do you even have to defend when your own father cared so little about you that he fed your testicles to your family pet. All you are left with is a downgraded version of a woman’s vagina,” tilting his head right so that he can whisper in Hangyul’s ear, Wooseok’s voice goes even lower, “Though I have heard that the holes of eunuch are tighter and more pleasurable.”

In Wooseok’s arms, Hangyul involuntarily vibrates and lets out a whimper leaving Wooseok with no choice but to laugh incredulously. If Wooseok had been attracted to Hangyul’s boldness before, it pleased him a thousand times more to know that he was capable of breaking it.

“Oh? What have I discovered? If I trample over you enough you’ll be reduced into an overstimulated mess in front of my eyes! Is that right? You know, normal eunuchs are supposed to have been castrated so early in their lives that they go through puberty irregularly and do not secrete sex hormones,” Wooseok smirks cheekily and lets his left hand slide down to Hangyul’s thigh, “But you, with face like that, were made to be a sex slave. What do you say? You want to be my slave, right?”

When Wooseok sweeps in to kiss Hangyul’s unfairly appealing lips, the eunuch turns his head in another direction. It is expected of someone with Hangyul’s defiant nature to perform in such a way, but as a reflexive act of anger, Wooseok strikes Hangyul so hard the boy buckles down to the ground and begins growing a plum colored bloom at his temple.

Wooseok grabs a fistful of Hangyul’s black robe and pulls him up to yell, “How dare you-”

“I bore my neck in submission. I wanted to make a proposition that if I were to give myself entirely to you, you would not let them send me away as tribute to the Mongolians.”

 _The Mongolians_. Wooseok understands then that Hangyul had been waiting inside Wooseok’s room with a motive.

“I would have easily accepted your proposition if you had not pulled that stunt earlier. I make the rules, and you follow.”

“I am sorry. Forgive me then… master.”

And the humility that Hangyul presents with his apology snaps the last string that holds Wooseok back from attacking the other in lust.

Wooseok latches his lips onto the chipped skin at the slope of Hangyul’s neck he tore earlier and begins to lap up the remainder of the blood that hadn’t become a scab already. The skillful way Wooseok’s tongue licks all over every nook and cranny of Hangyul’s neck and still manages to pay attention to the most sensitive points leaves Hangyul keening and pressing closer to Wooseok for more.

“A-ah-”

Hangyul attempts to return the favors he’s receiving, grabbing to feel up and down Wooseok’s sides. Hangyul pushes Wooseok back to the other side of the room so that he can comfortably rut onto Wooseok’s body. Every so often, Hangyul slips his hands under Wooseok’s hanbok, but Wooseok doesn’t let the touching get any far. 

“Oh! Ah- ah- a-ah-”

Reversing their positions, Wooseok traps Hangyul’s arms behind his back and tugs down Hangyul’s black robe so that it pools around Hangyul’s waist. The low v-shape the robe made had taunted him from the moment Wooseok laid his eyes on the eunuch. A pair of gorgeous shoulders are revealed for Wooseok to kiss all over. 

“Ahhh- hn-”

Hangyul moans at the tickle of Wooseok’s moving lips against his burning skin. Admittedly, Hangyul does not handle stimulation well so his head begins fogging up and he begins losing his ability to make out what the other is saying.

“-you listen to me. You are under _my_ control,” is what Hangyul salvages and he acknowledges that he’s being scolded for letting his hands roam too far earlier.

But still, Hangyul whines having miraculously become spoiled during their short encounter, “I need to make you feel pleased-”

When Hangyul begins to sob, he can’t tell if it’s because of his overwhelming desire to satisfy Wooseok or because Wooseok has started to suck at his nipple with a relentless force. Hangyul’s body jerks with the whines ripping out of him until Wooseok decides to break off contact to breathe. Ironically, Hangyul is the one panting as if he were out of breath.

“W-wait-” Hangyul takes the opportunity to ask before Wooseok dives back into tweaking Hangyul’s nipple with his hand, “May I please? Get a kiss? P-please-” Hangyul’s lips itch but his tears get ahead of him.

“You can get a kiss boy,” Wooseok grants almost mockingly, “but I have to keep everything that is going on down here, _going_.”

Elegantly, Wooseok takes the clips that were holding his hair up out and Hangyul watches, entranced, as the beautiful locks flow down to Wooseok’s back. Distracted, Hangyul can not prepare himself for when Wooseok clamps the clips down on his nipples and sends Hangyul falling into Wooseok’s strength to hold him up.

“I will give you that kiss you want now.”

The grip of Hangyul’s fingers on Wooseok’s shoulders tighten to a bruising strength as Hangyul uses all of his power to push himself upwards and kiss Wooseok’s lips with fervor. To avoid their teeth clashing sickeningly, Wooseok bites and finds himself taking delight in the way Hangyul’s full bottom lip feels being chewed between his teeth. Hangyul, in response, sticks his tongue into Wooseok’s mouth to dance over every surface.

Wooseok gratefully appreciates Hangyul’s service, but also allows himself to delve deeper by reaching a hand down to the slit of Hangyul’s robe around the lower half of the eunuch’s body. Roaming the rough skin of Hangyul’s upper thigh, Wooseok is pleasantly surprised that the eunuch is not sporting any clothing under the robe, not even an undergarment. The hand slides towards Hangyul’s inner thigh, rubbing it and creating a burning friction so that Hangyul’s mouth responds loudly.

In one swift motion, Wooseok bunches the remaining fabric of Hangyul’s robe still clutching dangerously loose on the boy’s body, and rips the black robe off. Hangyul is left naked, barren, and exposed for Wooseok to feast on. But the part that Wooseok’s eyes catch onto is the single thin goose quill sticking out of what should have been Hangyul’s phallus.

Before Hangyul can comprehend his sudden exposure, all motion stops and Wooseok averts his eyes.

“M-master?”

“I should have caught on earlier,” Wooseok mutters disappointedly, “How old are you?” 

Wooseok does not mean for his voice to sound so accusatory that it makes Hangyul flinch, but he gets the point across that nothing more is going to happen between them.

Desperately, Hangyul wraps his arms around Wooseok’s waist, “I am already nineteen. Half of the ladies get wed off at fourteen. We can do this.”

“That is not the point,” Wooseok continues with his eyes downcast, “Your castration was recent. Imagine what the kingdom would say if they found out that you were a poor beggar trying to break into the royal system for benefits. They would regard you as a moral disgrace.”

Just by hearing the tremor in Hangyul’s voice, Wooseok can tell that the younger is crying tears of anger, but he cannot give in, “It was not me. It was my father-”

“There is no point in telling me that. Tell your king.”

Wooseok directs his footsteps away the moment Hangyul falls onto the floor in defeat. 

“You will let them feed me to the Mongols then?”

The question is powerful, putting a halt to Wooseok who was already at the door of his room until he takes the few steps back to shadow over Hangyul’s vulnerable body.

A gentle hand lifts Hangyul’s head up to make contact with Wooseok’s eyes.

“Let your fresh wound heal and keep your chin up. Do not think you need to satisfy me to save your life.”

Then he leaves.

The king sits on his throne with an unimpressed look on his face. Usually none would have the courage to enter a millimeter of their body inside the Hoegyong Hall regardless of rank or status. Trespassers with the prettiest faces could expect to leave without a face at all.

“Kim Wooseok. You are back for more when I already stated my decision firmly,” King Uijong’s voice is laced with threat, indicative of having memorized Wooseok’s name to a blacklist.

Conventionally, in the meeting room, civil service officers stand tall and strain their leg muscles while the king sits in leisure. In the Hoegyong Hall, Wooseok kneels down low in front of the king’s throne.

Wooseok is avoiding eye contact with the king, but still maintains his confidence in his voice, “I think you are mistaken, your king. I do not care. Appoint eunuch Jungham all you want. It does not bother me.”

The king is taken aback. For surely, there could have been no other incentive behind a civil service officer’s appearance in his grand throne room.

“Then what business do you need here?”

“I just think, that it is quite hypocritical of you,” Wooseok finally spares a menacing glance at his superior, “to be such a great proponent of eunuchs because of their lack of sex drive that makes them trustworthy to be around the ladies of the royal family. Yet, at the exact same time, you condone sending these eunuchs to Mongolia to be raped and sexualized by the beastly barbarians that are Mongols.”

Every word that Wooseok spits out is like minimal but deadly drops of poison that sink into skin unknowingly and cause victims to die slow, painful deaths. The king becomes visibly bothered as his fists clench around his armchair.

“Do you not know what will happen to you if you keep questioning my long thought decisions like this? Where is your loyalty, I ask of you Kim Wooseok.”

“It is not here, your king. For I am resigning as of now. You are no longer a threat to me unless you follow me back into the village where I will definitely- before you catch me- ruin your reputation with ugly rumors about your alliance with the Mongols. Yes, that is what will happen if I leave the manwoldae today and the eunuchs are still lining up to be sent away as tributes.”

In the end, that is what matters most. In time, the empire could be easily overtaken by the Mongols, but so long as the king remains the king, he is bound to receive special treatment. What he cannot afford is losing the relations and trust his kingdom has for him currently.

The king’s eyes widen as for the first time- he had been challenged.

In a scramble the Hoegyong Hall doors burst open and all of the people freeze at the face of a hysterical king. 

“Do not!” the king shouts at the top of his lungs, driven so mad that saliva flies out of his mouth along with his words, “Do not send them to Mongolia! I repeat, the Tributary Movement is to be halted this moment!”

As the king collapses on the ground from chest pain, unaccustomed to the orders he has to give on a large scale, Wooseok leaves the Hoegyong Hall from behind. But Wooseok does not consider himself to be taking a walk of shame. He doesn’t feel sorry walking out the gates, down the stairsteps, round the stable; in fact, Wooseok feels cunning as he harnesses the palace’s best horse.

He is ready to run.

“Wait!”

A familiar silhouette comes chasing after the stable wearing nothing on his feet but evidently looking fresher in a pink hanbok than when Wooseok first saw him in black. A small smile spreads across Wooseok’s face.

“Where are your shoes boy?” Wooseok teases.

“U-uh, I uh...” Hangyul awkwardly tucks a strand of soft hair behind his ears while looking at his wriggling toes against the cold rocky floor, “... I can ride a horse...”

A loud chuckle escapes from Wooseok’s throat leaving Hangyul blushing furiously. This Hangyul is so much more bashful than the one Wooseok remembered from his room days before. He decides that he is charmed by both of them equally.

“Yes, I would guess so.”

Turning an even deeper shade of red, Hangyul clarifies himself, “I just feel like I owe you a favor.”

“No, you are wrong… the entire kingdom owes you the favor.”

Often, Wooseok finds himself saying one thing and acting otherwise. As he bluntly rejects Hangyul’s offer to service him, Wooseok also extends an arm down, inviting and guiding Hangyul to climb up his horse. Yet, it still makes Hangyul smile prettier than hibiscus floating on small puddles of water from the recent rainfall.

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't believe that I wrote this. Feel free to comment anything- whether you enjoyed reading or even if you loathed it so much that you want me to take this down (゜▽゜;)
> 
> My Twitter: [adalheidishere](https://twitter.com/adalheidishere)  
> My CC: [adalheidishere](https://curiouscat.me/adalheidishere)


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